Like a whimsical, but ultimately benevolent Creator, I strike down the tatty old apple tree of yesteryear and replace it with the twiggy new apple tree of today*.
Gaze upon its slender beauty and marvel that yesterday, where there was but a stony patch of ground, today there is an tree which will one day have apples and that. It was me that brought it forth. Or at least from out the garage where it was wrapped in a sack. And I planted it at the side of the garden, because cutting down the old tree accidentally did at least open up the lawn, making it look bigger.
On the way back, I tried to smite some seagulls, but they ignored me. Then I realised I'd accidentally stolen a quote from Terry Pratchett's 'Small Gods' book (his best, although 'Feet of Clay' is very good), so I stopped.
One of the small joys of writing is when you get to teach your computer new words. This morning I taught Final Draft (posh screenwriting application) the following:
'Shit' (can't believe it didn't know 'shit')
A good day's work, I feel. My laptop is now enable to hang around in cockney pubs and start fights. I hope this doesn't invalidate the warranty.
* The thing against the fence. No, not that thing, that thing. There, yes. The white poles are weaves, through which the dogs, when so inclined, 'weave'. They're very good at it.